Into the Arena

What is your modus operandi, way of being in the world?

There’s a part of me that is always making things right, making sure everyone is happy, keeping things functioning. I’ve always labeled myself as the peacemaker in my family growing up, but this Psychology Today article has made me realize that I wasn’t the peacemaker at all. I was the hero to my dad—the good girl--and the parental child and helper—making sure the house was clean--for my mother.

I still play those roles in my life today and have for 50+ years. ☹ Besides not being healthy, causing resentments in relationships, I’m done. I’ve played that role and I’m done. I own the T-shirt and it’s about ready for the rag bag. I’ve been ignoring the life that’s waiting for me out there.

Now I sit on the edge. On the edge of the deep and well-worn path I’ve been traveling for so long, lifting my head up from a way of being that no longer serves me. But I can’t see what’s there.

Brenè Brown said, in a recent Good Life Project podcast, “The greatest pain I’ve ever seen in my work is from people who’ve spent their lives on the outside of the arena wondering what would have happened had I shown up. That’s a pain that …has become a far greater fear of mine than having to dodge some hurt feelings sometimes. What if I would have shown up and didn’t sing?”

Not singing is not an option for me anymore.

My problem? I don’t know what’s in my arena.

My coach nailed it recently when she said, “We need to defrost your dreams.” Whoa! I’ve never really seen a “dream”, let alone anything locked up in a deep freeze, but when she said that a small fissure appeared on the surface of the pack ice in my mind. Apparently, there’s something there.

And it’s a little scary. Once that crack starts, it naturally progresses and keeps growing. I’m glad I had a couple of weeks before I was to meet with her again because I needed to ponder this possibility. The possibility that anything I choose to do is actually conceivable.

I’ve been living too long in my cushy bubble. I know how to follow directions, finish a project to completion, stick with my routine, make sure things are in order in my life. I can do status quo. I just don’t do well with uncertainty, let alone this weird thing called a “dream.”

So, I sit in this space of unknowing, on the precipice of something. Waiting. And as I think about this, my inner child is running away, fleeing to some safety in being a good girl, not crossing lines, staying in the background, not ruffling any feathers, making sure the world is in place for everyone else. She’s a little frightened by the largeness, the expanse of the arena, and the uncertainty in it.

I think my passion for memoirs and true stories comes from a curiosity on how other people have navigated this longing for purpose and how they’ve been able to focus on and follow their dreams, or otherwise leave their fears, their current way of being to step into a new arena. There are the creators, idea-people—Henry Ford, Steve Jobs, The Wright Brothers, Albert Einstein. There are those who have overcome life obstacles—David Goggins, Tara Westover, Jeannette Walls. And those lead by altruistic visions—Mandela, RBG, Gandhi.

So how do you uncover—excavate—your dreams when you’ve never been taught to think like that, think about possibilities rather than managing what’s coming at you, making the moment “okay” for others, keeping the peace, unruffling feathers? I don’t know where to begin.

But here’s what I am learning to do:

·    Be still, sit back, meditate, with no intention, for no other reason than to be in the moment.

·    Lean into my own natural curiosity in things—people, nature.

·    Don’t push to find the answer, let it come while keeping the door open.

How do you discern your next steps into unknown territory? What is your dream and how have you stepped into the arena to play? I’d love to know.